Feeling faint
by Zora Arian
Summary: One-shot. Molly faints, leaving John, Sherlock and Lestrade to deal with the situation. Oh, and look at that: Sherlock 'helping?


**I fainted once, while falling in during band practice. It wasn't a great feeling, being cold in the face, your body weak and having the urge to vomit. But the teachers were kind to give me hot milo, and I got to skip practice for that day, so, yay :D**

Molly walked through the corridor with John and Sherlock bickering (rather, John reprimanding Sherlock about something that happened in their flat, while the latter ignored the former) at the front and DI Lestrade tinkering with his phone trailing behind her. They had just seen a body, and Lestrade requested more information, so now they were heading to her office to get the documents.

That was when she felt a little light-headed.

"Oh, please just…" she spoke up, quickly going to the side wall to support her rapidly weakening body. John and Sherlock turned around while Lestrade came up behind her, pocketing the phone.

"You feeling okay, Molly?" he asked, startling her.

"I just…stay here…uhh…" she whispered, bringing up her free hand to massage her temples. Her face was feeling slightly cold all of a sudden, and small black dots were appearing in her line of sight.

She pushed herself from the wall to continue to walk, taking stock of John's worried face and Sherlock's nonchalant one, before darkness engulfed her vision.

Lestrade was quick to reach out to her, who fell behind, but was not exactly ready for a 49kg weight, so he fell backwards as well, hitting the floor with a loud thump.

"Oh, oww…" he exclaimed, scrunching his eyes tight to the pain in his rear.

"Greg, alright there?" John took a step forward, the worried expression now on him rather than Molly.

"Yes, yes, I'm alright. It's Molly we're supposed to be worried about. Wha-" he gestured to the unconscious woman seated on his legs, but was cut off by Sherlock, who came closer as well.

"She's not been having balanced meals: regular chinese take-aways are not exactly healthy. Has not been sleeping well for three days now, judging by the increased size of her eye bags and that they're turning slightly purple. Also the-"

"**Help** her, Sherlock, not **deduce** what made her that way! Present, not past!" John glared at him, stopping his rant.

Sherlock huffed in annoyance at being interrupted, but did not continue.

"Okayy, so…" Lestrade raised his eyebrows, a silent question as to what they should do about Molly's current condition.

"Alright, just stay there. I'll go-" John took over the situation, but stopped short at what Sherlock was about to do.

He bent his knees by Molly's side, and lowered his head so that his lips came into contact with hers.

Lestrade, of course, saw this, and furrowed his brows at the doctor, who had an expression of bewilderment. John allowed a grin to crawl upon his face and slowly raised his hands, wanting to make them into fists and pump them in the air, because yes, he can write this incident on his blog and **finally** dispel any more notions of his flatmate being gay, which somehow made he himself 'one' as well, which frustrated him to no end.

"Is that what it is, Sherlock?" John asked the kneeling man when he lifted his head, while having a very hard time to contain his happiness, "Was that re-"

"CPR."

John was too busy thinking of what to write on his blog that his view of the so-called 'kiss' was, in fact, merely an attempt at reviving Molly by filling her lungs with air. Lestrade, again, of course, saw the real intention and nodded his head in confirmation to Sherlock's statement (word). He surpressed a wide grin when John's face, from jubilance, deflated immediately, while lowering his arms.

"Why am I not surprised…" he said morosely, then added, "why'd you do that anyway?"

"You asked me to help. I'm helping."

John resisted the urge to roll his eyes.  
CPR seemed to work because after another breath of air from Sherlock, Molly coughed and sat up quickly, bumping the top of her head on the chin of the inspector behind her, hard. She opened her eyes, not taking any notice to the male groans in pain, and were met with one perfect cupid's bow lips. Seeing John in her peripheral vision, and recognising the minor curses to belong to the DI, her face began to heat up as she brought her gaze up to meet with the grey eyes of the consulting detective. He stared back at her. She felt her heartbeat slowly picking up speed.

"Don't faint," he warned.

How could she not?


End file.
